Yes, California is beautiful.

Once upon a time, a Native Son lay dying. He did not know that he was
going to die. His physician had to break the news to him. He told the
Californian that the process would not be long or painful. He would go
to sleep presently and when he woke up, the great journey would have
been accomplished. His words fulfilled themselves. Soon the Native Son
fell into a coma. When he opened his eyes he was in Paradise. He raised
himself up, gave one look about and exclaimed, "What a boob that doctor
was! Whad'da he mean - Paradise! Here I am still in California."

Man has of course, here as elsewhere, chained nature; set her to toil
for him. She is a willing worker everywhere, but in California she puts
no stay nor stint on her productive efforts. California produces - Now
up to this moment I have held myself in. Looking back on my copy I see
only such meager words as "beauty", "glory", "splendor", such pale,
inadequate phrases as "super-mundane fertility" and "super-solar
fecundity". What use are words and phrases when one speaks of
California. It is time for us to abandon them both and resort to some
bright, snappy sparkling statistics.

Reader, I had to soft-pedal here. If I gave you the correct statistics,
You wouldn't believe me.

So here goes!

California produces forty per cent of the gold, fifty per cent of the
wheat, sixty per cent of the oranges, seventy per cent of the prunes,
eighty per cent of the asparagus and (including the Native Daughters)